Thursday, June 14, 2012

Parting Thoughts

My sister is a big proponent
of what I would classify as the “live and
learn” parenting doctrine. Tattered and bruised, her kids navigate the
treacherous hardwood each day, slowly discovering what household items will and
won’t hurt them. It’s difficult to not intervene sometimes, but after one
outing with the scalding oven door, you can be sure they won’t make that
mistake again.

This kind of approach seems much akin to how I
felt at Park. When I shadowed the sixth grade for the first time, students
boasted about their school having no grades, no uniforms, no rules. Ludicrous,
I thought. Where’s the structure? Progressive culture was entirely foreign to
me. By the time I realized what had actually happened to me, it was junior year
already. I thought I was taking advantage of the system, abusing the liberties
given to me so graciously by the school. But I wasn’t. The system was working exactly how it had been intended to
work.

Sure,
I slacked off on homework at times, as did the majority of students. There were
eventual ramifications, though. Soon, my hand would start to burn on the oven
door. The punishment, however, didn’t come from the teachers; the punishment
came naturally. It didn’t take the form of pain or embarrassment, but rather
disappointment. Reading a bad report was like being informed that that last
twelve weeks of my life were effectively wasted. There is no parallel for that
feeling, no better motivator for those of us that take pride in our academic
work. The principles of the school operate under the belief and expectation
that no student wants to feel that kind of disappointment.

Howard
talked to the incoming freshmen this year about our “invitational culture”. He
warned them that what you get from Park is contingent upon what opportunities
you take advantage of—what “invitations” you RVSP to. It’s not as simple as
that. I would assert that the declined invitations can be just as much of a
learning experience as the accepted ones. Granted, it’s not the brand of
conventional learning that Howard was referring to, but it lends itself to an
important kind of self-discovery. I wasn’t particularly active in clubs
throughout high school. Instead, I preferred to spend my free time doing weird
things with my friends, like decorating a bathroom. I wouldn’t have had the
same opportunity to do that at another school, and those moments feel
incredibly precious in my memory. They were times when the stress of school
seemed to disappear altogether, times that provided me with the energy I needed
to get through the day. I don’t know that there is a way to waste your time at
Park. No matter what you decide to do with it, you’re constantly surrounded
with so many great minds that, through a sort of intellectual osmosis, you will get smarter.

Our
school is a special place, one that I took for granted for a long time. It’s
not perfect—hardly anything is. But as I depart, I’d rather focus on the good
things than the bad. I had a truly exceptional four years and I will always be
grateful for what Park has done for me.